Malice in Wonderland
by Spirare
Summary: Sometimes it's better not to remember.  My entry for A Different Kind of Fear.
1. Chapter 1

Pen Name: Spirare

Name of OS: Malice in Wonderland

"Entry for the A Different Kind of Fear contest"

Summary: Sometimes it's better not to remember.

Pairing: Alice

Word Count: 2760

Rating: The fic is rated M for some fairly disturbing images.

Disclaimer: SM owns post-asylum Alice and Lewis Carroll owned Alice in Wonderland. I just added them together and yes, I may be just a little twisted. Just a little.

Thank you to my lovely pre-reader lifelesslyndsey and the my fabulous beta BigRedImp. You all rock my world.

Check my profile page for the banner I made for this.

**Malice in Wonderland **

_Lizzie Borden took an ax, gave her father forty whacks. When she saw what she had done she gave her father forty one._

When she was a young child, hardly more than a toddler, she killed the White Rabbit. It was the first time she held the power of life and death, but she knew, _she knew, _it had to be done.

For the most part, she gave herself good advice, whether or not she listened. Often she even pretended she was more than just one person.

Perhaps, even then, she was. Little did she know, that with the completely justified death of the White Rabbit, she would be.

The White Rabbit, a young thug of a boy cut through her yard, late for Sunday church, as always. When he paused, just long enough to pull the pocket-watch from his waistcoat, she made her move.

Ever so quietly, she had tip-toed through the backyard to grab a rusty hatchet from her father's tool-shed. Staring intently at the blade that her Papa's hands had held and used and kept it as sharp as his wit, she sneaked up behind the White Rabbit and sliced it through. A clean cut.

Papa would be so proud.

She watched, mesmerized, enthralled, as the Rabbit's insides and blood ran out, staining the winter-white snow the most lovely shade of red.

She bathed her body in them. Draped the intestines around her neck and danced among the pine trees, the hatchet in one hand, blood dripping down the other. They all would be part of her forever.

She was only six years old at the time.

To be sure, the church had taught her killing was wrong. But her six year old mind reasoned, quite rightly in her own opinion, that it deserved it: Papa always says that time is money and one should never be late.

Ever so quickly, or as quickly as a six year old can manage, she pulled the pieces of the White Rabbit to the icy creek in the woods near the barn and watched it float downstream. Jumping in next, she washed herself, the water burning her with it's ice and ran home, the hatchet safely hidden in a large knot in her favorite wayward pine. It belonged to her now. Perhaps, it always had.

And she would need it again, very soon.

She spent the next weeks in bed, recovering from hypothermia, being lectured about playing too close to the river and hiding her smile every time a whisper of the White Rabbit's disappearance would reach her tiny ears.

It was near spring when she was finally proclaimed well (to which the White Rabbit snorted) and the ice and snow had begun to melt, revealing small patches of green across the Massachusetts' ground.

No one knew it was the Caterpillar's turn to face her justice.

It was a short, stout boy of about fourteen, sitting near the river smoking. It's eyes were red and he spoke to Alice lackadaisically.

"Whoooo are you?" He drawled out, taking a long drag from a rolled cigarette that Alice thought smelled a bit queer.

She approached it, feigning caution. She had the upper-hand and the White Rabbit's voice chanted for it's blood.

"I hardly know, sir," she replied shyly, inching closer and closer, the hatchet yearning to break free from it's bound place behind her back.

It looked at her quizzically, before turning back to watch the river. As if she was of no consequence. As if she was deemed not important enough.

She would show it just how significant she was.

When she was quite sure it's attention was elsewhere, she slipped out of her Sunday best (she learned the first time how difficult blood was to get out) and made her way behind the Caterpillar.

Surely this would satisfy her need for blood. At least, temporarily.

Pulling the hatchet out, she made one quick swipe across it's neck. The blood poured out in buckets, spraying across Alice's face.

She relished it.

It looked at her with half dead eyes, a silent question.

"I am important," she firmly told it as it's life drained away.

But she wasn't finished yet. She wanted more. She needed it. She started with it's feet. Chopping and cutting through muscle and sinew and bone. It was hard work, but as the White Rabbit reminded her, well worth it.

Once the extremities were taken care of, Alice had one more requirement. A curiosity and as there were no cats here, she reasoned, there was no danger.

You see, she _needed _its heart. She cut and tore and dug it out with her bare hands, holding it gently. She owned it now.

She held it high and let the remaining blood drip onto her face.

It was magnificent. She must have stood there for hours, holding its heart, its life force, covered in blood.

This is the way it should always be, she thought.

"Blood makes everything better," the White Rabbit admitted.

But unfortunately, with the sun beginning to set, the time had come for Alice to make her way home. She threw the Caterpillar's body parts into the river, watching them float away as she had the Rabbit's. She wanted to save the heart, the heart that once beat, the heart that deemed her unimportant, but the White Rabbit reminded her that such a thing would be unwise, so instead of tossing it into the river, she buried it beneath the wayward pine that held her beloved Papa's hatchet. Her hatchet.

Washing up and changing back into her clothes, Alice skipped home quite happily. Another good deed done.

The news of yet another disappearance plagued the small town. And while each whisper brought her a certain amount of joy, it also meant she would need to wait to feel the thick, warm stickiness against her skin again. And oh, how she craved it.

But Alice was a patient child, for Papa had always taught her that good things come to those that wait.

Spring turned to summer which brought with it another birthday celebration. The Queen baked a cake and the King gave her a new dolly.

A dolly. She wanted to roll her eyes and beg for blood, but instead she hugged her Papa tightly and retreated into her woods.

As it turns out, the dolly proved to be useful. She removed the hatchet from it's hiding place and used the inanimate thing for practice, imagining the blood made from each cut, the lifeless eyes, the beauty of it all.

It was nearly nine months later when the whispers ceased and it was safe again.

It was near summer when the Cheshire Cat crossed her path, the voices had become incredibly, and unbearably loud. It was all poor Alice could do to drown them out and even then, they demanded one thing and one thing only.

Blood.

The Cat, a dumpy little girl who was often invisible and always grinning. Honestly! Alice thought. What reason does it have to grin so?

"She knows," proclaimed the Caterpillar.

Well, that's just not possible, thought Alice. But the stupid Cat kept grinning and disappearing and grinning again.

"I like your smile." Alice told it.

"Thank you."

"I have a secret hiding place just over there. Would you like to see it?"

The Cat grinned and nodded and followed Alice through the trees to the wayward pine.

"What happened to your dolly?" It asked as it looked upon the remains of the ugly once-dolly.

"It turned into a pig." Alice shrugged. Adding silently that the Cat would know soon enough.

The Cat nodded sagely. "I thought that it would."

When the Cheshire Cat noticed the bloody hatchet, Alice saw the fear flicker in it's eyes.

She liked it.

"Oh don't worry about that," she told it. "You'll hardly feel a thing. Just ask dolly."

The Cat's grin disappeared and she tried to run. But it was no use. Alice had planned for this.

"The killing blow first," the Caterpillar reminded her.

"I know, I know." She silenced him.

"Y-Y-You know what?" Stuttered the Cat.

"This," she calmly stated as she swung the hatchet across it's throat. Watching the blood flow so profusely gave Alice a thought. She had seen and wore and danced among the red liquid. But she had never tasted it.

Did she want to?

Of course she did. She primly sat next to the Cheshire Cat, it's grin now completely gone and drank greedily from it's open neck wound. The blood was warm and rusty and delightful. But she had other work to do.

And unfortunately, not enough time for she was so enjoying herself, she did not hear the footsteps that made the way to her lair.

"What the hell is going on here Alice Ester Borden?" Papa screeched.

Alice looked up, mouth stained in red, thoroughly unprepared for such a confrontation.

Mama was horrified. "Explain yourself this minute, Alice!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. With Mama, it was always sentence first, verdict later. Besides, whatever could she say...

"I can't explain myself, because I am not myself." The Rabbit said, coming to her defense.

"We're all mad here," the Caterpillar reminded her.

Shut up, Alice thought.

Her Papa, who should've been so proud, handed his perfect little Lizzie to Mama, took the Caterpillar from her, tossing it into the river just as Alice had done with the others.

"You are no longer our daughter," Papa whispered as he turned his back.

They sent her to live with the Brandon's, or as Alice called them, the Mad Hatter, March Hare and Dormouse. They changed her name, cut off her brilliant blonde locks and dyed her hair black.

"Your name is Mary Alice Brandon now," they told her. They made her repeat it back. Over and over and over again. Over and over as if these simple words could erase what she had done. Erase who she was.

They couldn't. Nothing could.

"You've got no right to grow here," the Dormouse told Alice over dinner one evening.

"Don't talk nonsense," she replied, mentally adding the bratty little Dormouse to her to-do list.

"I'll not have that tone in my house," scolded the Mad Hatter, barely hiding his contempt for the small girl.

"More tea?" The March Hare chimed, even though there was no tea to begin with.

"We're _all_ mad here," Alice reiterated as she stomped off. Blood boiling in her ears.

Once in the relative safety of her room she flopped onto her bed.

"I don't understand why they sent me here," she cried. But she picked herself up and reasoned, "What does it matter where my body happens to be, my mind goes on working."

"Here, here!" Toasted the Caterpillar.

"You know," the White Rabbit told her. "Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it."

"And perhaps the moral here coincidences with the need for more blood," remarked the Caterpillar.

"Surely, the King and Queen will make lovely additions to our collection." The Cat said.

"The Mad Hatter, March Hare and Dormouse, as well." The Rabbit agreed.

Alice concurred, but she was far from stupid. She had been caught once and had decided to never be caught again. She knew one thing for sure, she would have to plan this carefully.

The first thing she did was make a list.

1. Dormouse

2. Mad Hatter

3. March Hare

4. The Queen

5. The King

Her beloved hatchet, would be saved for the King and Queen, but how to get rid of the rest?

As luck would have it, the Mad Hatter had quite the library. Herbs and Healing. Cures and Countermeasures. Potions and Poisons.

Perfect.

She sneaked the book from the library and hid it under her bed. She read by flashlight each night when the rest of the house succumbed to the sandman.

The words were big and some were hard to understand but as Alice grew older, so did her vocabulary and she stumbled upon her answer, quite by accident, late one evening.

Prussic acid.

According to the book, a small amount in the afternoon tea for several servings and the deed would be accomplished.

But where to get it, for surely, even though she was now ten years old, no druggist would sell something so volatile to a child.

"Thievery, then." The Cheshire Cat explained.

As it turns out, the Cat's suggestions was almost too easy. She slipped the acid into the lining of her dress and bought a candy bar. Smiling easily at the druggist.

It would take just a few more years for everything to be perfect.

The very next afternoon, she started with a small amount in everyone's tea.

"Food poisoning," the doctor assured them.

Alice had learned a great deal of patience by this time, so she waited until they got well, before administering the next dose.

And the next.

Until finally, _finally,_ it was time. She poured the remaining liquid into the tea that evening and sat back as one by one the Dormouse, the March Hare and the Mad Hatter succumbed, face down on their precious tea-less dining table.

"We must burn the house down!" The Rabbit shouted in her head.

Alice knew it was correct. Gathering matches and gasoline she hastily set to work.

The flames were glorious. But she need more.

She needed revenge and revenge called for the King and Queen's blood.

Under the cloak of night, she made her way back to the beginning.

"This must be the wood where things no longer have names. You know," she told her voices, "once upon a time, I was Alice Borden here."

"Yes, yes." They replied. "We remember."

And in fact, the voices may have remembered better than her. Although, it was a very long time ago when they had real names, but the mission was more important than the memories.

Grabbing the now dull hatchet, and slipping it into her satchel, she made her way back to her once-home.

"Alice? Sweet Alice, is that you?" Papa asked, sleepy-eyed.

"Yes, Papa."

"But where are the Brandon's?"

"Do not worry, Papa. You will see them soon. Just go back to sleep. I'll wake you when they arrive."

Of course they would never arrive. Perhaps it was hope that lulled the King back to dreamland.

Alice slipped quietly out of her old house. She took the hatchet from her satchel and went into the tool-shed. The Dormouse reminded it her it was much too dull to accomplish her deeds.

She remembered, for Alice had quite a long memory, the way Papa had taught her to sharpen the blade.

Sneaking back into the house, she committed her final act of beauty.

With her newly sharpened hatchet, she made her way into the house, careful not to wake the sleeping family.

And then the blood bath began. With unabashed vigor, Alice slammed the hatchet into the King and Queen's skulls, taking no time to enjoy her accomplishment. Not yet.

When the handle broke, Alice figured it was enough. She threw the bloody hatchet in the basement and ran. Relishing the screams she heard as the bodies were discovered.

Poor little Lizzie would take all the blame. Poor little, perfect, precious Lizzie.

Alice laughed.

She had walked quite a way when she was stopped.

"Are you hurt, dear? What's your name?" A young uniformed man asked her, taking in the horrific scene of a girl covered in blood.

Alice took in her disheveled state and giggled. "Mary Alice Brandon," she replied automatically.

"Can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?" Alice swayed on her feet.

"We're all mad here," she answered before finally succumbing to sleep.

When she awoke, everything had changed.

Roughly, white coated men shoved her into a dark pit.

Whether it was the darkness or the drugs that pumped through her system, the voices were silent.

"Either this well is very deep, or I fell very slowly, for I had plenty of time as I went down to look about myself and to wonder what was going to happen next," she thought. "But it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."

Or was she?

**AN: This may end up being a two or three shot. I am almost done with the second chapter so we'll see.**

**Click the button and let me know what you're thinking.**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm tired and a little medicated. If this makes no sense, or if I missing something, please let me know. Otherwise, enjoy.

Disclaimer: Recognizable lines from both Twilight and Alice in Wonderland belong to SM and Lewis Carroll respectively.

~!#$%^&*

Upon first opening her eyes, Alice found several things to be quite odd. The first, and obviously most important, was that she was apparently clean of blood. She did remember, in vivid detail what brought her to this place, but the evidence, the blood-soaked, lovely blood-soaked dress was gone. The gooey, sticky red that ran across her body, the beauty that she had once bathed in, danced among and relished had, for lack of a better word, vanished.

"It must still be a part of me," Alice reasoned aloud. "I did drink it into me."

She waited for the others to join her, her coherency growing by the second, but no one came. There were no voices. No one to call for more blood. No one to tell her what to do next.

Alice, for the first time in years, was absolutely alone.

And completely terrified.

She lashed out, biting and clawing and scratching at her skin. Begging the blood that flowed to call upon her now silent companions.

But the silence remained. And the walls closed in around her.

At first, she grew quite angry when the White Rabbit refused to speak to her. It was her first confidante. How dare it leave her here alone! The very nerve!

She had to get out.

With renewed strength, Alice began to smash her fists against the walls. She screamed and cried and begged the Rabbit to return just once more. When suddenly, the door to the room was thrown open and Alice was bound, a needle slammed into her hip.

Curiouser and curiouser, she thought as fell deeper down the well of blackness.

"Who in the world am I?" She asked the kind looking Lizard before passing out.

When she woke again, it was very dark. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she had been moved to yet another room.

She tried to remember herself but it was much like trying to fancy what the flame of a candle looks like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.

So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in a world without bars and needles, though she knew she had but to open them again and all would change back to her new reality.

"What is your name, child?" A man, a Gryphon asked. Alice could tell he didn't really care, but she answered anyway.

"Mary Alice Brandon," she repeated the programmed lie.

"And do you know where you are?"

"No, sir."

"Well then, welcome to Byberry. Can you be a good girl, or do I need to keep the restraints on?"

"I'll be good."

"Very well, let's take a quick tour before our session."

Alice didn't like the way the Gryphon said _session_, but she nodded and followed.

"They're dreadfully fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there is anyone left alive!" Alice remarked to the doctor as they passed by the lab.

"It's all perfectly safe, child," he told her dismissively.

Alice was beginning to dislike him more and more.

They arrived in the mess hall, rampant with disorganization. People were scattered about, some half-clothed, some screaming. The noise, oh the noise was so loud that even her thoughts were drowned in sea of voices. Alice looked to the Gryphon, eyes pleading.

"But I don't want to go among mad people," she begged.

"Oh you can't help that. We're all mad here." He told her and Alice wondered if he meant that he was mad too. She wouldn't doubt it.

"But how do you know that I am mad?"

"You must be," he told her. "Or you would not be here. Now run along."

"But they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear oneself speak — and they don't seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody attends to them." Alice said, shaking her head.

"Just get something to eat, child. I'll come to collect you after breakfast for your session."

Alice grabbed a tray of what could be called breakfast food and went to sit at the only available seat.

"I know what you're thinking about," said Tweedledum to her. "But it isn't so."

"And what am I thinking?"

"That we need more jam, of course."

"The rule is jam tomorrow and jam yesterday, but never jam today!" Shouted his twin, Tweedledee.

Alice had had enough.

"Who cares for you?" Alice screamed to the crowded room. "You're nothing but a pack of cards!"

Alice buried her face in her hands. It was going to be a long day. She had never been so thankful when the Gryphon came back to get her.

He led her through a series of corridors to a small room, naked except a couple of chairs and a desk.

"So, Alice," the Gryphon began as they took their seats. "Tell me about the White Rabbit?"

"Whom?" Alice asked, feigning ignorance. In truth she was still very upset with the White Rabbit, with all of them, for leaving her here alone.

"Your first night here you spoke of him," the doctor told her, careful not to give anything away.

That particular night was very unclear to Alice, as were most nights since she arrived here. How could she be sure that all of that, or all of this for that matter, was nothing more than a nightmare.

"Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise," Alice explained.

"What do you mean?" The doctor/Gryphon asked her.

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin."

The Gryphon sighed, shaking his mane. "Let's talk about your, um, adventures first. Explanations take such a dreadful time."

"But I have had no adventures," Alice lied. "Nor explanations. I only remember waking up here."

"It's a poor sort of memory that only works backward," the Gryphon muttered, writing precariously in it's notebook. "I think we need to try more drastic measures."

The drastic measures the Gryphon spoke of were appalling, to say the least. Alice was taken to the lab (quite fearful that it was indeed time for her head to come off), strapped down to a table and subjected to horrors that she was not experienced enough to dream of. She thrashed and screamed, twitched and moaned, but there was no end in sight.

With each new shock and shot, her life, short as it was, flashed before her eyes. In her mind's eye she saw the White Rabbit checking his pocket watch, as if he was waiting for something. Late as usual. Was it too much to hope that he was waiting for her? That just maybe, she was the one who was late this time?

Hope is a very dangerous thing, Alice thought. Especially here.

Perhaps she was dying. But even she knew, she was not nearly that lucky.

After awhile, Alice couldn't be sure how long for she had completely lost track of time, the electricity stopped. How long had she been here? Was any of it real?

There were too many questions and no answers.

It would be so nice if something made sense here for a change, Alice thought.

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense," the Caterpillar retorted.

Alice startled.

It had spoken again.

Where have you been, Alice thought.

"Twinkle, twinkle little bat. How I wonder where you're at." The Dormouse sang.

This is just like a riddle with no answer, Alice told them.

"Then where shall I begin, please your Majesty?" Asked the White Rabbit sarcastically.

"Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end: then stop." Alice told it.

"Someone is coming," the King announced.

"Sweet Alice," the Lizard called quietly as he cracked open the door to her room. "Quickly now, we have to move now."

"Move? I do not want to move," she stubbornly proclaimed.

"We have to leave this place. Now."

"Then you should say what you mean,"

"I do," the Lizard protested. "At least I mean what I say. It's the same thing, you know."

Alice laughed.

"It's not the same thing at all! You may as say that I breathe when I sleep is the same thing as saying I sleep when I breathe! It's absolute nonsense."

"Here, here!" The Cheshire cat cheered.

"Fine," the Lizard sighed. "Alice, this may be hard for you to believe, but I am a vampire and you are in danger." His voice was filled with urgency, but still...

"It's no use trying, one _can't _believe impossible things." Alice told him quite matter-of-factly.

"Regardless, we must move you. Now." With that, the Lizard reached and picked the small girl up and ran faster than the wind.

"Where are we?"

"For the moment we are safe. I am afraid that I will have to change you?"

"Change me?" She questioned. "But I am so very tired of growing smaller and larger all the time. It was much more pleasant at home."

"Listen, sweet Alice. There is a very dangerous vampire after you. This is the only way. I've never done it before, but I must protect you."

Alice did not like at all the tone of his remark, but fear or courage, she couldn't be sure which, understood his insistence.

"Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction," she told him as if it were all that simple. The Lizard placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Sweet, Alice. Allow me to apologize for the pain this shall cause you," the Lizard stated before biting into her neck.

"Well after this I shall think nothing of falling down stairs." Alice told him as the pain took her.

As she burned, her senses grew sharper. She wanted to call out to the Lizard. She wanted to tell him to leave her and run.

"If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that," the Rabbit said, as if anyone but Alice could hear.

But it was no use. She could hear everything.

"I wonder, now, what the Rules of Battle are," the March Hare told her as she burned. Alice could hear the fight from her hiding-place, a horrific sound of metal and tearing. "One Rule seems to be, that if one Knight hits the other, he knocks him off his horse; and, if he misses, he tumbles off himself – and another Rule seems to be that they hold their clubs with their arms, as if they were Punch and Judy – What a noise they make when they tumble! Just like a whole set of fire-irons falling into the fender! And how quiet the horses are! They let them get on and off them just as if they were tables!"

After countless days, Alice awoke to a new world.

"Blood," they chanted. "We need it now more than ever."

Alice moved gracefully out of her hiding place. She knew whose blood she wanted.

And nothing could stop her now.

"Now I give you fair warning," she called as she approached the Gryphon. "Either you or your head must be off and that in about half no time! Take your choice!"

The Gryphon just stood there, dumbfounded.

"Take it," the Queen told her. And so she did. Alice drank greedily from him, savoring the beautiful red sliding down her throat.

"Sweet Alice, can you hear me," the Lizard said as she finished her kill.

How? Alice thought.

"Remember me telling you about that dangerous vampire?"

Alice thought back and recalled the short conversation, albeit through her murky human memories.

"Well, he did not appreciate what I did and killed me. I have one last gift to give you, sweet Alice."

With that, Alice's eyes glazed over and she watched herself, watched what she had become, watched what life had in store for her.

"Thank you," she breathed. It sounded like an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged: the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it.

Would you please tell me which way I ought to go from here, she thought.

"That depends a great deal on where you want to get to," the Caterpillar replied, knowing full well where she needed to go.

"Just go," the White Rabbit told her. "We will always be with you."

With her new senses, she found the diner in her vision quite easily. And when the blonde haired vampire walked through the door, she could hardly believe her eyes.

"You've kept me waiting a long time," Alice told him. The Caterpillar, thankfully kept his stupid mouth shut. The golden-haired god ducked his head, like a good southern gentleman.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he drawled out, smiling at her.

Taking his hand, she led him into a new life. A new world.

"A new world? But what if I shall fall right through the center of the earth. Oh! And come out the other side where people walk upside down?" The Dormouse asked.

"Come, we shall have some fun now," giggled the Mad Hatter. The thought was echoed by all, finally free of their cages.

Begin at the beginning indeed, Alice thought.

_Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:  
Thus slowly, one by one,  
Its quaint events were hammered out —  
And now our tale is done  
And home we steer, a merry crew,  
Beneath the setting sun._


End file.
